


Grumpy Little Elf

by peppermintkatie



Series: Shameless Season 11ish Gallavich Verse [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: A little hallmarky...sorry not sorry...it's the holidays - don't be a grinch!, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Christmas, Elf!Mickey, Embarrassment Kink, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, Gallavich Christmas, Gallavich Holiday, Ian is proud of his husband, M/M, Over Stimulation Kink, Refrence to breath play/choking, Wholesome and then Dirty, confession kink, happy holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintkatie/pseuds/peppermintkatie
Summary: Mickey is a mall elf, do you need to know more?  Tami accidentally outs him - oops.  Mickey isn't sure how Ian will feel, they just had that whole conversation about being honest.  This work is a tad spoilery (but not really) for season 11 episode 1 and 2 and is canon compliant other than through the magic of fanfic I moved them forward to December.  And no COVID because while I don't mind it being in the show, who needs that in a holiday fic?!?This was fun to write, 2020 has been a shitshow - I hope this brings you joy.  Happy Holidays!Jan 5, 2021- I made a relatively minor tweak in the Christmas Day part of this fic due to excellent feedback frommadifroggyso thank you!  The story is better because of it and I have appreciated all of the feedback and comments I have gotten to date.  I may have also edited it and slipped in an additional little easter egg for a story I am hoping to get written asap.Oh - and I figured out how to imbed the artwork!  Woohoo!!Enjoy!
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Shameless Season 11ish Gallavich Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121903
Comments: 47
Kudos: 181





	Grumpy Little Elf

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Kitteninmyhair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitteninmyhair/pseuds/Kitteninmyhair) for beta reading and editing my work. She is always so encouraging!
> 
> All mistakes are my own as I tinkered with it while she was reviewing and after.
> 
> Companion artwork for this oneshot by [Luluxa](https://luluxa.tumblr.com//) is linked in the end notes.
> 
>  **Russian Translation now available!** -Thank you to ElleGum on Twitter for your work and dedication to have this translated!  
> [Check out her AO3 works at Liza1510.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liza1510/pseuds/liza1510)  
> [Link to the Russian version of Grumpy Little Elf](https://ficbook.net/readfic/10318754)

**Approximately Three Weeks Before Christmas**

Ugh, these awful fuckin’ ears were itchy, and the get-up he was wearing was fucking stupid. His stomach grumbled, and he wished his shift was already over but checking the massive clock in the middle of the mall, he still had a little more than a half-hour. He really needed to just make a sandwich for himself while he made one for Ian's lunch. Well, dinner really since Ian had been mostly on the swing shift since the holiday rush started and sometimes doing doubles. But since he didn’t want to disclose he was working, more specifically _what_ he was doing for work, he was trying to avoid all suspicious activity. He needed to get over it and just make the damn PB&J. 

Some of the kids were getting rowdy fifteen feet back in the section he managed, where he was supposed to be employing _effective line management_ according to the fucking Elf Handbook. Two kids were playing around and it was getting out of control. The kids must have been about eight or nine, which seemed to universally be around the time when Mall Santa lost **all** appeal. Guests in that age range were only there generally because their nagging soccer mom decided to drag them there out of a misguided desire for whimsical tradition. Needless to say, when those kids were finally able to exit after sitting on Santa’s lap, the **only** happy one was the hovering mother. She would be all smiles, tucking the polaroid away for safekeeping. It was all very nauseating. 

In the case of these particular two boys who were about to cause an issue, they had been in line for over thirty minutes and, left to their own devices, had decided the best way to entertain themselves was to rambunctiously knock into each other. They were laughing uproariously but were completely oblivious to their surroundings. They were about to crash into either the red rope line or the mom with a baby strapped to her chest in a carrier immediately behind them. Of course, their helicopter parent was nowhere to be found when it was time to corral their kids, likely stepped out to try and quickly get one last present in secret. Mckey had seen this play out over and over again in the past three weeks. At the beginning of the queue, the sign _expressly_ said children could **not** be left unattended, but nobody paid attention. He rolled his eyes and sighed at the outrageous turn his life had taken; who knew working the laundry in prison wouldn't be the worst job he had ever had? He went to address the issue. 

“You two can knock it off, or I'll crack your skulls on the ground.” He shouted back at them as he pushed past parents and kids further forward in the line so he could get to them to sort it out. They looked up, and from the look on their faces and how quickly they stood up straight, it was clear they registered that this mall elf was not fucking around. 

“Mickey,” Phyllis screeched from closer to the front of the line.

Hearing her literally made him cringe, and he turned to see Phyllis, in all her Mrs. Clause glory, rocking up on him fast. Fuck. He already had two strikes against him, one for “ _breaking the illusion_ ” and telling some obnoxiously demanding five-year-old that Santa didn’t exist and one for “ _mismanagement of parental redirection_ ,” whatever the fuck that meant. The Elf Handbook had like a million rules about how an elf was supposed to “ _maintain decorum_ ” so they could “ _helpfully assist Santa and all of his guests to have a magical experience_.” Mickey had scanned the handbook at best before signing his agreement confirming he had thoroughly reviewed the rules, and Phyllis insisted on following it to the letter. He really hoped this didn’t become a third strike and he was about to lose his job. It was less than three weeks before Christmas, only one more full paycheck before the big day, and he needed the money.

Mickey fully turned to face Phyllis when she got back to where he was in the line, he was pretty sure the angry expression on her face was against some rule in some handbook for helpers of the North Pole but he wasn’t about to bring that up right now. Phyllis didn't really have a sense of humor. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that you are a key element in creating the winter wonderland atmosphere?” Her face was caked with makeup to make her skin look extra pale, but right now, it looked wet with a sheen of sweat; Mickey wasn’t sure if that was because she was worked up about the matter at hand or if she was just overheating under the layers of holiday garb that made up her outfit. Her cheeks were a couple of angry red slashes, so yeah, she was definitely worked up. “If we weren’t short-staffed and near the end of the holiday season, that would have been your third strike.” She wasn’t that much taller than him but the chunky heels helped boost her an extra little bit and Mickey felt like she loomed over him as she pointed a finger at his chest. Very unprofessional of her in Mickey's opinion. “I'm keeping an eye on you, and if you have even one more infraction, you are out of here." Before he could respond, she twirled around, her red crushed velvet skirt flying out around her, and marched back to the front of the line and nearer Mr. Clause. 

Letting out the breath he had been holding, Mickey felt a wave of relief wash through him that he hadn't actually lost the job. Yeah, it was a totally shitty seasonal job. Still, as long as nobody knew about it, he could make a little legal cash because Ian was being **such** a little bitch about the various scams and hustles he preferred as a way to make his money. And if he was honest, he really wasn't interested in doing any more time even though he maintained the pretense of a cavalier attitude when it came up. Plus, he could get Ian something nice that he'd been wanting and Mickey was secretly so stoked about it. He really just wanted to see Ian's face when he unwrapped his gift at Christmas. It would make all of this worth it. 

From behind him, "Mickey?"

Oh fuck. Oh no. No. No. No. No. No.

He didn't even want to turn around, wanted to pretend like he hadn't heard the voice, but he was fairly sure that would only make things worse. Schooling his expression into something resembling nonchalance, which he absolutely did **not** feel, he turned around.

And his suspicions were confirmed. That lady with the baby strapped to her chest? Tami Tamietti. Lips babby momma. Practically his sister in law. And while they didn't hang out together often, he couldn't believe he hadn't realized that it was her, but between the kids and then Phyllis, he wasn't even sure he had looked at her directly. Or baby Fred in the harness. Goddamnit.

"Oh, hey, Tami." Maybe they could just act like this was totally normal, and hopefully, she wouldn't ask any questions, and she would keep her fucking mouth shut.

"Oh. My. God," three distinct words. She looked like she was caught between busting up laughing and being horrified, "it **is** you." She blinked several times like she was trying to clear her vision. Jesus Christ. It would be comical if his stomach didn't suddenly feel like he had swallowed hot coals. Turned out he was glad there was nothing in his stomach. 

"Um, yup, it is." Moving a little closer so they could have a semi-private conversation in the giant public space, "so if you could not mention this to anyone, that would be great." Putting a hand up to shield what he was saying from any other prying ears, he explained, "I'm kinda doing it in secrete, ya feel me?"

Tami's face scrunched up like she was preparing to ask questions, and then her eyes went wide, and she grimaced, "Yeeeaaahhh," rolling her lips inwards before saying, "That might be a problem."

"Why's that gonna be a problem?" Was he seriously going to get a shakedown by his own sister in law? 

"Wweeeellll," If she drew out her words one more time to avoid just shooting straight, Mickey didn't think he could be held accountable for what he did in response. 

He just looked at her with both eyebrows raised, waiting. He had all day. Actually, glancing over her shoulder at the large clock again, he had approximately seventeen minutes until 7 PM when the frosty gates were closed for the night on the North Pole Wonderland, conveniently located in the middle of a giant mall on the North Side of Chicago. Looking to the end of the line, he could see Chad, the smarmy elf in charge of the end section, had already put up the ropes signaling no new guests would be able to queue up for the evening.

Visibly swallowing and now starting to bounce side to side as Fred picked up on her agitation and she tried to soothe him, she finally disclosed, "I may have taken a pic of you and sent in the group family chat." She looked regretful and a little afraid of his response, which was fair because hearing that was maybe even worse than the worst-case scenario he had thought through.

"What?" He knew his shout was too loud and immediately looked over at Phyllis, who managed to mean mug him even behind the fake wire-rimmed glasses from forty feet away. He motioned to her, acknowledging that he got it and would lower his voice. He really wanted to flip both women off and leave. Wipe away this whole experience. 

Taking a deep breath and resolving to try his best to stay calm, "what the fuck?" The parent ahead of Tami, who had finally returned to supervise her boys, gave him a withering look so he dropped his voice even further, "how is that even possible? You just saw me." She hadn't been out of his sight the whole time since he threatened the kids in front of her.

Her look turned pleading as she tried to explain, "I know, I'm sorry." She pulled out her phone and showed him what she had sent to the family group text. He was also in the group, but of course, his phone was turned off and in the temporary employee locker he was assigned. The Elf Handbook expressly prohibited carrying a phone, and Phyllis had been very specific to go over that part of the protocol. Not that his outfit even had a pocket for him to tuck it into if he'd wanted to keep it nearby anyway. She continued to explain, "I have been in line for over a half-hour, and I was bored, and I saw you and thought you _looked_ like Mickey," gesturing at her phone, "So I snapped a pic and sent it." 

When he finally looked down and read the text, that's almost exactly what it said verbatim. It had an unflattering image of him from head to toe, with his hands on his hips and scowling at the guests. Elf shoe coverings with a bell on the end of each, white and red striped socks, green half trousers, red vest, pointy elf ears, and a stupid mother fuckin' green and red holiday elf hat all on full display. Holy shit, this was bad. 

He felt his chest get tight with embarrassment. The chat included all of the Gallaghers plus a few extras like himself, Sandy, Kev, V, and obviously Tami. It was a very active chat and could be hard to keep up on, but it seemed most everyone had caught _this_ topic. Most had either heart, haha, or thumbs-up reacted to the picture. Scrolling to see the responses, nearly everyone had chimed in with a comment about how much it looked like Mickey, that it was his twin. Lip said it must be Mickey's doppelganger, he wasn't even going to try to pronounce that word, but from the context clues, it appeared to just be a fancy way of saying someone who looked like someone else. Gawd, he thought he was so fancy, what a tool. However, thank god, Ian hadn't responded. Maybe there was a way to delete it off his phone. He didn't get home until after eleven tonight, so if he could just figure out a way…

The phone buzzed. It was a response from Ian.

* * *

**Ian 6:44 PM:** That IS Mickey!!! 😵 

* * *

Well, fuck. Cover officially blown.

He didn't even want to see any more. And if he did, soon he could check his own phone. Digging his fingers in his eyes and taking a deep breath in and blowing it out, he was trying not to lose his shit; he tried to think of what to do. Opening his eyes again, he realized there was a ten-foot gap between Tami and the guests ahead of her, and it appeared he was blocking the way. Glancing back, he could see impatient kids and their parents eager to move forward the next ten steps and wait some more. Unblocking the way, he stepped aside and wandered forward beside Tami. 

She'd been quiet while he silently had a mini-meltdown, but that was too good to last, and so she decided to go back over how it was a mistake and also that she felt terrible, "I am so sorry Mick, I had no idea it was actually you when I sent that." She seemed pretty sincere, and while Tami could be a little uppity and high maintenance, she had never been mean to him directly. Not something he could say for most of the Gallaghers at one point or another. And since she hadn't realized it was him, he knew she hadn't sent it to humiliate him, even if that was the end result. "Please tell me how I can make it up to you?" Her sad puppy dog eyes were ridiculous. Ian's worked way more effectively.

"Aight, aight," Stepping forward again beside her so they were keeping up with line movement, "Settle down Pippy Long Stockings," rubbing his hands down his face he tried to think through options, "Ian obviously already knows since he could tell it was me." And yeah, it was pretty stupid, but he kinda felt special that despite the garish costume he was wearing and the low picture quality, Ian had still been able to spot him.

Looking ahead, he realized Tami and Fred were only about ten sittings from time with Santa, and then there were only about a dozen remaining guests behind her. For now, he needed to do his actual job if he wanted to keep it, and he'd have to worry about Ian and how he was going to explain this to him when he got home.

"Look, now that the line is winding down, I have to wipe things down to get ready for tomorrow," Phyllis was eying him over the top of her fake glasses, "I gotta go." He began to step away, but he felt Tami's hand on his arm, and he turned back to look at her again with a brow cocked. Really, she'd fucked enough up for the moment; he wasn't sure what she wanted now.

"At least ride home with me; it'll be faster than the L," said with an imploring look. Like she actually was hoping this would make up for her fuck up.

"Sure, whatever." He wasn't going to turn down an opportunity not to walk in the cold winds and take the long ride back to the South Side.

"Great," she looked relieved like she actually thought it was a fair exchange, "I just have to get a few things in the mall, and then we can go." She strategically turned her and Fred back to facing Santa. She stepped forward as the line moved forward, effectively leaving him behind, sputtering as he realized he'd just been hoodwinked into spending actual time in the mall. What the fuck. He did **not** want to shop in the mall at Christmas time with Tami. It was bad enough having to work here. His feet were tired, he was hungry, and he needed to think about what he would say to Ian, dangit. 

Oh well, he knew when to give in. He sighed and went about getting the cleaning supplies they hid behind a giant sparkly snowman. Snowmen weren't even part of the whole Santa Clause schtick, but Mickey guessed anything holiday-themed and slapped with sparkle created the "magical experience" they were going for. If he rolled his eyes as often as he wanted to, they wouldn't be in his head. 

It was ten after seven when he was done with his part of the cleaning responsibilities, just as Tami was exiting after having had Fred sit on Santas lap. Fuckin' creepy if you asked him, having your kid sit on some random dude's lap and tell them the secret to making them happy. And Fred wasn't even old enough to remember any of this shit. Whatever, as per usual, nobody had asked him. He met Tami at the exit path leading away from Santa and let her know, "I gotta go change in the employee locker room, where you gonna be, and I'll meet you there?" No way was he walking through the mall or showing up back at the house in his elf outfit. He'd been changing before and after his shift every day since he started three weeks ago. 

"Oh, um," She thought about it for a minute while Mickey got impatient, "Just meet me at the food court."

Walking away, "Gotcha, be there in ten."

"You want a pretzel?" She called after him.

Now they were talkin'. Turning around for a minute, he just gave a nod and called back, "yeah, salted with mustard," and then turned around and kept walking.

"Great, see you at the food court then," she yelled at his back, and she sounded extra cheery. She was a weird woman.

It only took Mickey a few minutes to change into his street clothes and stuff his lame costume in his backpack, including the mother fuckin itchy elf ear coverings. He figured they itched so much because they were high enough caliber ear extensions that looked semi-natural and had a snug fit. Kinda squicked him out a bit, but they were the low priority on the things he found objectionable about his outfit. He left the socks on because his jeans covered those and put back on his sneakers. He pulled out his phone, turned it on, and heard the slew of dings as the messages finally filtered through. Scanning the screen, he could see the text message notifications from the group text chat and a bunch of direct messages from some of them, including seven from Ian. Nope, not even opening those. He'd deal with all of it when he got home. 

He took a deep breath and blew it out, annoyed but trying to let it go. He got along with all of them for the most part, but he knew they mostly just tolerated him now that he and Ian were married. That still sent a thrill through him; _he was married_. To Ian Gallagher. The hottest goddamn ginger he'd ever seen. Yeah, he might get ribbed by Ian and the others for being an ugly little elf to make money, but it'd work out. They had been through too much shit to let something like this be an issue. Although Ian _had_ asked for full honesty, and he guessed he had kind of skated around that by ensuring he wasn't doing anything that would make Ian ask questions that he would either have to lie about or confess. But like, how do you even tell someone that you want to fuck you and have _some_ respect for you that you are a seasonal mall elf? Nah, he'd made the right choice even if it was going to blow up in his face now. 

Slinging his backpack over his shoulders, he went back out into the central part of the mall and fought through the annoying crowd to get to the food court where Tami had already managed to get food and snag a table despite the throngs of people. No wonder she seemed to think she should have a charmed life; by his standards, she did. They each had a soda and a salted pretzel along with a cheese dipping sauce and, the clearly superior option, mustard. She smiled at him when he sat down.

Then she started talking to Fred like he was part of the conversation and needed narration about what was happening, "There's your grumpy Uncle Mick." Okay, it was annoying how much he liked being referred to as an Uncle to Fred and Franny. He just rolled his eyes, he certainly wasn't going to tell her that, and regardless she just continued, "He looked so cute in that little elf costume, didn't he?" No longer cute.

"Ay, ay," he tried shushing her, "can we not. Please?" Fuck. "It's bad enough you blew the whistle on my gig, and now I'm gonna have to hear it from all the Gallagher's for forever." And he knew it was true; he'd be hearing about this as the punchline to a joke for years. It's why he had tried to keep it a secret, and even though Ian was upset he didn't have a job; he just didn't know how to tell him this was the best he was able to get. Best he could get in a pinch to get them through the holidays anyway; he really hoped there were other better options in the New Year because this shit was bleak. 

His plan had been to just give him the cash leftover from his check once he purchased Ian's gift and had tucked a little away for an emergency fund. He never wanted to worry they were short on cash when it came to paying for Ian's meds. He still had needed to figure out a way to sidestep questions he would have gotten about how _exactly_ he'd come by the money. It wouldn't be a lot, but it should help cover some of the bills Ian was stressing about. From his last check, he had already replaced a big chunk of the _borrowed_ wedding money. Guess he didn't have to worry about coming up with an explanation now. 

Pulling off a big chunk of his pretzel, he dipped it in the mustard and crammed it in his mouth before he asked, "and what the fuck are you doing on the North Side anyways?" He had really thought he was safe this far from home.

Tami managed Fred's octopus arms, which attempted to grab for everything within reach, but once she handed him a piece of her pretzel, he was happy and immediately started gumming it. "I needed to go to Bloomingdale's to get my sisters their Christmas present, and I wanted to take Fred for his first Santa picture at the same time."

Of course, from what little Mickey had picked up, the Tamietti sisters were snooty and competitive with each other, so it made sense she would go for some ritzy titzy gift. "Fuck, you must be really doing well working at Clips4Less to be able to afford that." He didn't miss her glare.

"I don't work at Clips4Less," she looked positively scandalized by the very thought, "I am a licensed professional hairstylist with a specialty in coloring." She flipped her mid-length hair back in her irritation. Very dramatic. 

Rolling his eyes and making the wrist motion of jerking off, like he gave a fuck. "Yeah, yeah, Okay, okay, calm your tits. You are a professional with hair." Taking a slurp of his soda, "You must make a pretty little penny at that legit scam you got going on to be able to shop at Bloomingdale's." 

She didn't respond right away but took a piece of her own pretzel and dipped it in the cheese sauce.

"That's fuckin' gross." Motioning his chin at her dipping selection, "Stick to the classics man, yellow mustard, jeezus, what's the world coming to?"

"I will not be shamed for how I eat my mall pretzel," said with plenty of attitude as she scooped even more cheese sauce onto her piece and ate it.

Whatever, some things shouldn't be messed with. Mickey was nearly done with his and, at least for the moment, not so hungry. He may have been a little hangry earlier, which certainly hadn't helped with the whole Tami conversation. 

"And I actually don't make that much; things are pretty tight." She seemed embarrassed to admit they were having financial troubles. It was apparent she wasn't used to always scraping to survive. He just raised his brow, waiting for her to continue. Maybe they were going to end the evening with a little petty theft after all. "I agreed to take a three hundred dollar gift card to Bloomingdales instead of cash in exchange for a full cut and color; that's what I was going to use." She gave a prim twitch to her hair and pursed her lips like she was a little proud of her own version of a shell game. 

It really wasn't that impressive, it was a relatively straightforward barter, but he figured she wasn't used to finding creative ways to fund her wants and needs. So instead of the caustic reply he usually would have given, he offered a fist bump. She looked embarrassingly thrilled to get the chance and quickly dropped her pretzel and bumped her fist to his; her cheeks were glowing with pride. Somehow she managed to have even _less_ chill than Ian. 

"So, anyway, I need to at least go there." Blowing out a breath, "I also got Carl in the gift exchange and still haven't figured anything out for him." She looked pretty stumped.

"Fuck, I would take Carl in a heartbeat, get him a taser, and be done," the look on her face said she was totally going to do that. "I have Lip; what does he want? Like a set of encyclopedias or some shit?" He hadn't thought a lot about what he was going to get Lip, but every time he did, he couldn't think of a single thing to get that smug bastard. 

Tami laughed and just shrugged, "Yeah, I know what you mean; he's a hard one to buy for. I got him some clothes, but I don't really have anything special either." She sighed and started to clean up Fred, who had drooled all over his piece of pretzel without eating much and had made a gummy mess. "I was hoping to do something really special for him because he does such a good job of taking care of little Freddy and me." Grabbing one more napkin she did a final wipe up, "And also so the Gallaghers would finally see that I care and maybe accept me."

He chuckled and shrugged, "Good luck with that." He had made peace with only being tolerated by some of them ages ago.

She looked up at his comment, "What do you mean, everyone likes you, Mickey." She honestly looked confused.

"Nah, they don't, Fiona and Lip can barely stand me, and I know it." He drank the last of his soda and started gathering their trash on a tray, "Doesn't fucking matter, fuck them. I got Ian; that's all that fucking matters to me." It's the only thing that kept him going for years, and he'd do what he could to hold onto it now that he had it. He didn't usually declare that, but what the fuck ever, he was a married man, and Tami already knew, had been at the wedding. He looked down and saw the light glint off his ring; he bit his lip to keep from smiling. "You can't fucking worry about what the other Gallagher's think."

"I am trying not to care, just sometimes it's easier said than done." She threw her trash on his tray, "just had thought a really spectacular gift for him would be like two birds with one stone." Shrug like it was what it was, "but he used the little savings we had to buy that bike he's restoring and gonna flip." 

Mickey had seen the bike; it needed a lot of work, but it really would be cool if he was able to restore it and then sell it for a tidy profit. If Mickey thought he and Lip could work together, he would have considered asking Lip if he could work at the bike shop where he worked. He would need training, but he wasn't half bad at mechanical stuff. He figured Lip wouldn't give him the time of day, though, so he hadn't approached it. Maybe at some point, he would swallow his pride and ask. The good thing about being discovered as a mall elf, he had much less pride now to swallow. 

He picked up the tray and dumped it while Tami strapped Fred back into the carrier attached to her chest. As they walked toward the end of the mall, where there was an entrance for Bloomingdale's, Tami suggested, "You could get him a bathrobe."

That wasn't a half-bad idea, but he wondered if Lip would even wear it if it came from him, shrugging; he just said, "Maybe." He'd think about it. Maybe it would depend on how much shit Lip gave him over the elf thing. Just thinking about it made his stomach clench in mild anxiety; Ian had been extra stressed and pissy lately. He hoped none of this was going to trigger some big thing between them. Or worse, something with his bipolar. He didn't want to add causing Ian to have a major depressive episode to his consciousness. 

Walking with Tami into Bloomingdale's, he could spot the covert security that was milling around the entrance. They weren't as subtle as they thought they were in their ill-fitting suits and watching with their hawke eyes. With his FUCK U-UP knuckle tats, loose jeans, and backpack, he knew he looked suspicious and would probably be followed through the store. Tami could pretty much fit in with all the yuppie yoga moms, but she would have the shadow of suspicion cast on her since she was hanging with him. He decided not to clue her in; she seemed like the type that would freak out. He tucked his thumbs into the straps of his backpack, making it clear he wasn't touching anything. Back in the day, he may have taunted the security a bit more, but he really wasn't looking to test those waters. Plus, with Tami and Freddie in tow, he all-around was hoping for a low key shopping experience.

Tami made an immediate beeline for the scarves; this obviously wasn't the first time being in this store; Mickey just trailed behind her. She started feeling the scarves, commenting on how soft they were and trying to get Mickey to touch them. Carefully he reached out and touched some of them; they _were_ really soft. Then he just hung back while she went through her decision process, chattering at him about nonsense like pattern, length, fringe, and he didn't even know what the fuck else. 

He hoped she'd hurry the fuck up. This store was skeeving him out with all it's high-end products and the security clumsily milling around watching him. Plus, he almost choked on his tongue when he realized how expensive the scarves were, some of the cheapest were $75, but some of them were over $500 for a fuckin' neck warmer. She touched and considered like a million different scarves, including trying some on that were clearly outside of her gift card purchase range but then put them back and finally landed on a selection for each sister. 

Turning around, she finally indicated she was ready to go, and through some miracle, Freddy was conked out in the harness. He had a little drool coming out of his mouth, and it was hard to figure out how that could be comfortable, but Mickey was just glad he wasn't screaming his head off.

Moving deeper into the store, they headed towards the centralized cash registers. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he could see at least two security people keeping pace and trying to make it look like they weren't. He was so focused on not tensing up that he almost didn't register what he was walking past, but he stopped dead when he did.

There they were. A pair on display showing off the mix of shiny and matte black exterior. Tami had continued walking and babbling about really nothing when he had stopped, but suddenly she was back by his side.

"Uh, Mick," He could see in his periphery that she was trying to figure out what had stopped him, "what's going on?"

"You asked what I was getting Ian?" She nodded, and he tipped his head at them, "I really want to get him the Air Jordan 11 Retro's." He reached out and felt the upper. "He's been checking them out on his phone." He had also shown Mickey a few times, even though they both knew they were out of their price range. Pulling back the tongue on the display pair, he could see they had cushioned insole, which would be nice with him working on his feet all day. The sole itself was a thick white and looked supportive. Ian had gone on and on several times about how much his feet felt bruised from being on them so much after working doubles.

"They just dropped earlier this week, and there is talk of them selling out this holiday season." He glanced behind the display and could see there were a number of boxes, but the supply had already clearly been depleted, and they had only been out a few days. "I am hoping to be able to get them with my paycheck on Friday." Man, they were sick; Ian would look so hot in them if he could swing actually scoring a pair for him. He would never admit it to anyone, but Ian got this extra special look in his eye when Mickey did something nice and unexpected. And yeah, that normally resulted in banging it out at some point, but that _look_ all on its own really did things to Mickey's insides. 

"Sir, please step back from the merchandise," said from behind him by one of the dilweeds in security; he had momentarily forgotten their presence. He yanked his hand back; he hadn't done anything wrong this time. All he could hear in his head was Ian's voice, saying he didn't want to be some sad-ass prison widow taking a bus to see him in Statesville every weekend. Fuck, this day just kept getting better and better. 

Tami spun around with a frown, obviously shocked by the turn of events. "We weren't doing anything."

"We are with Loss Prevention; please step away from the man ma'am, we don't want you or the baby hurt." This guy was a high-end mall cop, but still a mall cop. He obviously took his job _very_ seriously even though the most he was equipped with was mace. 

"It's fine, Tami, let these stooges do their thing, and then we'll be able to go," it didn’t sit well to just let them call him out, but he also knew he was _way_ outside of his home turf and not in a position to buck the system given he was on parole. Plus, in this case, he hadn't actually done anything, so this was a nuisance but hopefully didn't escalate further. 

"It's not fine; this is unacceptable." She stepped to the side but kept squawking at the two guys who were now flanking Mickey on either side. She was fumbling to pull her phone out of her back pocket to record. Oh god, she was going full Karen, but he was kind of honestly a little titillated. It had been a long time, if ever, that he'd had someone other than Ian try to vouch for him. And really, it was misguided because if he'd _thought_ he could have boosted some of the merchandise without getting caught to fence later, he would have done it in a heartbeat. 

"Sir, we are going to need to inspect your backpack." The first of the two security guys who seemed to be doing all the speaking and was clearly in charge held out his hand. The other guy just appeared to be there to increase the physical intimidation factor. "We don't allow backpacks in the store."

"This is fuckin' stupid; you saw me walk in. If you had a problem, you should have said so then." He pulled off his backpack, he wasn't going to fight this, but he did want to get it over with. "You guys aren't subtle; I could see you following us as soon we came in."

"What? They were following us?" Tami could really be shrill. She sounded so offended by the knowledge that they had been monitoring her. Mickey didn't think she understood that it was really him they were suspicious of; she just had the poor luck to be with him. "On what grounds?"

Mickey rolled his eyes; this wasn't an episode of Law & Order. It was a fuckin' mall with their in-house security, staffed by men who probably had very little power anywhere else in their life and therefore liked to lord it over the poor shoppers they were suspicious of. Glancing over and trying to motion for her to chill out a little, he could see she was actually recording. This night just kept getting better and better. He had a sneaking suspicion that without Freddie there to keep her from engaging physically, she would have been up in the faces of the Security Officers so quickly they wouldn't have known how to handle it. His respect for her more than doubled. 

"I demand to speak to a manager, this is completely out of line, and I will not stand for it." She kept holding the phone trained on Mickey and Security but was swinging her head from side to side trying to identify someone who could find her a manager. 

Sighing at the absurdity of his evening, he just handed his backpack over to Frick and Frack for inspection, and they promptly began pulling things out and setting them on the display table. It was mostly just his work outfit he had crammed in there and whatever miscellaneous items resided in the bag permanently. Fuck, this was embarrassing that they were doing it right in the middle of the store. How was it that a store of overpriced bullshit from China couldn't train their staff a little better? Glancing around, he could see a small crowd gathering and others who were still allegedly shopping but were obviously monitoring the drama unfolding. 

Pulling out a small bottle of clear liquid, the lead Security Guard looked at it suspiciously, "What's this?"

Rolling his eyes and really trying not to lose his gooddamn mind, "It's fuckin strawberry lube, Inspector Gadget." The second security guard looked up in shock from the rummaging he was still doing in the backpack, and Mickey couldn't take it,

Looking completely confused by finding it in his bag, the second Security Guard decided _then_ was the time to start using his voice, "What's it for?" He literally scratched his head while looking down at the label in confusion. It would be amusing if it wasn't so fucking dumb. The lead Security Guard looked homicidal with his sidekick. 

"For when I take my husband's dick up my ass." Mickey just deadpanned his response; these two fools seriously needed to wrap this shit up. The lube was in the backpack because Mickey had learned the hard way to always be prepared when they were away from home, not that he felt like he needed to provide these two bozos an explanation. Sometimes the mood struck them to fuck in odd places, not always near their bedside table drawer, and the days of enjoying a spit ride were long past. He'd never really enjoyed it, but sometimes you gotta take what you can get when you're only getting dick on the down-low. Now he got husband dick, and that required strawberry lube, and he may not have been a boy scout, but there were some things it was essential to be prepared for. 

Now both the security agents were blushing. Well, good!

"That’s what you get for profiling you stupid pigs!" Tami shouted way louder than necessary from ten feet away, but Mickey could also hear several people close by tittering in agitation and gathering support. Half a dozen people seemed to be backing Tami and her running commentary when he glanced over, which was novel. Tami still seemed confused about the difference between the tools rifling through his bag and actual cops. Whatever, he'd take the support.

The security officers looked up, probably to reprimand Tami for being disruptive, and seemed to finally become aware that the tide was about to turn on them. Considering they hadn't discovered anything stolen, they really were just standing there looking like idiots. 

The Security Guard in charge made the call and motioned to the other one to start packing the contents back in the bag, "Okay, well," clearing his throat, "I guess there's nothing to see here, sorry to inconvenience you, sir." The second officer thrust the bag back at him with his costume still half out of the mostly unzipped bag and then followed the Lead Security Officer. As he walked past, he leaned down to say very quietly, "I'm gonna keep an eye on you, so don't try anything cute." He shoulder checked Mickey roughly as he walked past. Mickey stumbled but caught himself on the display table. What a couple of frickin' assholes. 

"That's right, walk the fuck away." Wow, Tami was going hard. 

Suddenly Tami, with Fred between them, was in front of Mickey, checking to make sure he was okay, running her hands over his arms. If it weren’t for Freddie, he would have pushed her hands away or shoved her back, but he didn't want to risk her stumbling. "Are you okay, Mickey? I am _so_ sorry that happened. What a bunch of fuckers, I will be registering a formal complaint."

"I'm fine, Christ, get off a me," he bent down to escape her smothering concern to jam everything back in his backpack, "Not like it's the first time that's happened, it's fine."

"That is **not** fine; I might even lodge a complaint with the Better Business Bureau." She opened the notes app on her phone and added it to her list of tasks to complete. God save them all.

"Anyways, can we get this show on the road and get the fuck out of here before those two jokers decide to reappear and harass me some more?" He was so over this night. 

"Yeah, of course, but what about the sneakers for Ian?" She turned back to the display table that was now disturbed with shoes shifted off their proper stands after being used by security to inspect Mickey's bag. 

He slung his backpack over his shoulders with a sigh, "Yeah, I don't have the cash for them right now." He tucked his thumbs back under the straps so nobody got worried he was touching things he should keep his grubby hands off of. The last thing he needed was another run-in with security. "Hoping Friday my check will be big enough that I can get them," shrugging, "and that they haven't sold out."

Tami tapped the display pair of Retro's and pulled her mouth to the side, clearly thinking, but Mickey had no idea about what. He was ready to go. "They are pretty, aren't they?"

Sighing his most long-suffering sigh, "Yeah, they are; Ian will flip if I can get them for him for Christmas." He didn't know how much patience he would have for discussing this topic any more, and he was just getting ready to hurry her along.

She unexpectedly spun to face him, "find his size; I'll be back in a minute." And then she rushed back toward the scarf department.

What the fuck was this? He had no idea what she was even going on about; maybe they could put it on old-fashioned layaway? Seemed unlikely a place like Bloomingdales would even offer that option. Whatever, he just decided to follow along for the ride and went ahead and located Ian's size, one of only three pairs left. Maybe he could hide a pair somewhere in the store so he could have it to buy Friday? He quickly discarded that option; he didn't want to have the real cops called in over some stupid shit about relocating inventory.

Tami returned as he located the correct shoebox. She was holding two scarves, although he wasn't sure if they were the same ones or not; honestly, she'd looked at so many. He just lifted his brow in inquiry.

"I switched out for cheaper scarves; Cami and Cory don't need ones that fancy." She laid them on the display table, "Do you have any cash on you?" She had pulled out her wallet, which had been tucked in some secret pocket in Fred's carrier. 

Trying to catch up, Mickey pulled out his wallet and the forty-seven dollars he'd been holding onto to go to the shoes. He had enough on his Ventra card to get back and forth on the L for his remaining shifts before Friday. He watched as Tami pulled out a wad of ones and fives and began counting them.

"These are the tips from my five hair appointments today who didn't pay in a gift card." She quickly sorted the bills and counted them, and yipped in excitement. "Okay, I think we are going to have enough." She made like she was going to go to the register, but Mickey's head was swimming.

"Ey, wait, what is going on?" He hated feeling like he wasn't in the loop.

"The way I figure it, we are here; we should get the shoes. They are in stock, and I agree with you; Ian will freak when he sees them. That boy loves his shoes." And that was certainly true. "You can pay me back Friday, right?" She looked at him, waiting for confirmation.

"Yeah, I should be able to." He would pay her back; he felt the little burbling feeling in his stomach as he realized maybe he could stop stressing about getting them. Tami was going to help make that happen. He kind of wanted to hug her, but he wasn't about to get that carried away. He couldn't contain his smile, though. Maybe this whole day wasn't so bad. Tami helping him get a nice Christmas gift for Ian was huge. 

He wasn't going to pass on the opportunity. "Okay, let's do this then." Mickey grabbed the box of shoes, she grabbed the scarves and her wallet, and they walked toward the counter. He really couldn't believe this was happening.

The Bloomingdales sales associate, Barbara, according to her name tag, was as much of a stuffy old lady as Mickey would have expected. She gave them a tight smile and wished them a happy holiday, but it felt like she was judging the whole time. When the total came up, all combined, it was slightly _less_ than the gift card, and both Mickey and Tami did a double-take. 

"Ummm," Tami was clearly trying to do the calculations in her head, but Mickey was good with numbers, and that wasn't right. He was torn between highlighting it and trying to rush the transaction so the sales associate wouldn't notice.

Barbara leaned forward slightly and dramatically looked side to side to make sure nobody was within earshot; they weren't and then said conspiratorially, "employee discount for having to deal with those apes." And she winked. Then she was back to being stiff and formal like it never happened. 

Mickey looked at Tami; they both looked confused as fuck. Shrugging, Tami just said, "wow, thanks and Merry Christmas to you too." Barbara simply inclined her head. Tami threw a pair of holiday socks being displayed on the counter to take the total a little over the gift card, settled the outstanding balance, and they boogied back out of the store and into the mall. And promptly cracked up at how wild that whole experience was beginning to end. This evening was a roller coaster.

Tami's little Volkswagon bug was parked across the mall, closer to where the Santa had been, so they began the journey back. Tami had handed back his cash, and they were figuring out with the discount what exactly he would owe her out of his paycheck now. Tami reveled in what she saw as a double down on her little scam because she would get cash from Mickey from the original gift card and would be able to buy additional gifts while simultaneously having checked off her sister's gifts. Mickey just let her gloat without raining on her parade about it not being that sophisticated; considering it helped him too, he could be magnanimous.

He was feeling better and better about the purchase. Yeah, it was a luxury, they could have gotten Ian cheaper shoes, but Mickey knew these would make him feel good and hopefully make up for some of his own caginess recently. Ian had threatened to withhold sex out of frustration with him, so now that he knew about the job, he could hopefully stop with that bullshit. Not that he'd been able to follow through and actually resist, Ian knew all of his hot buttons, but Mickey knew Ian's too. 

In the home stretch towards the entrance, Tami suddenly dodged towards a little kiosk tucked in one of the small side alcoves. She was shockingly agile for someone with a kid strapped to her chest. "Oh my god, have you had their caramel corn?"

Taking a step back to see the sign showing Nuts on Clark as the name, he just shrugged and shook his head no.

"You have to get some for you and Ian to share," She had her wallet back out and was ordering a few buckets with the cash she still had, "I am getting some for Christmas day if I can keep my hands out of it." They had a little tray of samples, and she pushed a few at Mickey, who just took them while being a bit confused about her excitement, "and the cheese corn is also delicious," she handed over a few bills, "and the mixed is seriously the best." The woman was practically swooning. 

While Tami was rambling about popcorn, Mickey tried it, expecting it to taste like Cracker Jacks. Who hasn't had that kind of popcorn? And holy god, it was so fuckin' good. Like really good. Then he tried the cheese corn like she directed, and that was amazing. Both together? Heaven. Fuck, it was the perfect combination of salty and sweet. They couldn't get high right now because of the random piss tests they had to do on parole, but once that restriction was lifted, he was coming down to get a tub of this shit, and they were going to get higher than a kite and chow down.

In the meantime, he could use a little of the cash he still had on hand to get a bucket for him and Ian to share. Nodding his head, he asked the girl running the kiosks for a mixed bucket. "That's freaking amazing."

"Isn't it? It's only in the malls around the Holidays, otherwise the airport or ordering online." Her face turned a little sad, "Growing up, before my mom got sick, she would always have a tin of the mixed bucket under the tree, and we would eat it with hot chocolate while unwrapping gifts." Swallowing, she shrugged it off like it was no big deal even though it obviously was, "when I saw it here, I thought maybe it was a tradition I could bring to the Gallaghers." She looked away, trying to gather herself. 

Mickey wasn't exactly sure how to navigate the suddenly emotional waters he found himself in; he may not be very good at reading a situation, but this was apparently important to her. He paid for his bucket of mixed popcorn, tucked it in his backpack, grabbed his bag with Ian's shoes in them, and they started to finally head to the exit and her car. The pause had really gone on too long, but Mickey wanted to say _something_ ; she'd been really good to him today despite ratting him out, "I think that's real nice; I bet the family will appreciate it." Sounded kinda dumb, but the smile he got back was worth the effort.

"Yeah, I hope so." She shook her hands out, making the bags she was holding rustle like she was trying to shake it off; it was obviously about more than the popcorn. This was her version of an olive branch to the family, and Mickey wondered how many other ones she'd made that had either been outright rejected or, more likely, overlooked.

While she performed gymnastic level body contortions to get baby Fred secured in the middle of the back seat, Mickey fired off a text. He had an idea, but he needed intel from Iggy first before he could commit. He pulled his jacket more firmly around himself, zipped up, and tucked the ends of his scarf into his coat. It was freezing, and his jacket had seen better days. Even though the evening had been all sorts of fucked up, he was glad he didn't have to take the L, and he got to hang with Tami. Yeah, she was high strung, but he could kinda get what Lip saw in her. She was actually pretty nice if you could get past her prickly exterior. 

His phone dinged back with the information he was looking for. He felt a little thrill; maybe he and Tami could work together to give Lip a cool gift after all. Since she'd helped him secure the present for Ian, he wanted to do her a solid. 

Once they were all buckled in, heaters on, including seat warmers, which Mickey couldn't decide if he liked or if it made him feel like he had pissed himself and the Christmas music turned down to a manageable level, he broached the subject. Thumbing his nose in agitation as he tried to decide how to approach, he just decided to dive in, "So about that gift for Lip," He saw Tamie glance over, sniffing he continued, "I might have an idea, but it's probably pretty lame." Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut.

She perked up right away, eyes big even while she kept a vigilant view of the road in front of her, "What is it?" Her voice sounded preemptively excited.

Rubbing his brow, blowing out a breath, he just told her as quickly as possible, "There's an old motorcycle in a shed behind my old man's house; he's too much of a pussy to ride, so it's been sitting out there for years. It was my grand pappy's before he got shot on a drug deal gone bad, it's totally unremarkable and probably not worth shit, but me and Iggy could probably at least get it running." He was pretty sure that had been one long sentence. Shrugging again, "But ya know, then it would be Lips, and he's good at the restoration if it's even worth restoring."

There, at least he had tried, and it was no big deal when she laughed at his offer.

"Are you fuckin' serious?" Said kinda quietly.

"Yeah, probably a stupid idea, right?" Whatever, no skin off his back.

"Mickey," and she was back to her high pitched squealing, "That would be sooooo cool." She did a rhythmic tap on the steering wheel, "Yes, yes, I am **so** in. You let me know what you need; I might be able to make a few extra appointments for a little extra cash if it's needed to get it running."

Okay, now that she was so excited, Mickey worried he had oversold it, "I mean, bikes ain't like Garanimals so not even sure if he'd like it." Blowing out a breath, "it's really not that special. It's a Kawasaki from the mid-'70s, and even though it's been in the shed, it's probably got rust." As kids, they had gone out to the shed and pretended to ride it. As they had gotten older and gone their separate ways, it had just sat there abandoned. He didn't even figure Terry remembered it was out there and was unlikely to miss it since the shed was packed with a bunch of other shit. 

"That's okay, you know Lip, he likes a project. It's just he's always focused on flipping the bikes. As a gift, he would be able to enjoy restoring it for himself." She was practically vibrating with excitement.

Looking out the window, Mickey smiled a little bit. Her excitement was kind of infectious, and he hoped he and Iggy could get the bitch running. They had a few weeks before Christmas, he didn't work tomorrow and generally worked the afternoons so he could spend some time in the mornings trying to get it working, but he'd have to be careful of his Pops. Since the wedding, their relationship was still rocky, what with Terry wanting him dead an all. 

With the wedding, he felt more solid than ever with Ian; even with their bickering and skirmishes, he knew they would work it out. He had never had that security in his entire life, and yeah, maybe he'd enjoyed it a little too much with his six-month self proclaimed honeymoon. It both annoyed him, Ian's insistence on getting legal employment, while also making him feel cared for because he understood Ian's reasons. Ian's reasons were because he wanted Mickey safe and close by, not trapped behind bricks and bars. He was trying, but he really didn't know how to do it well, as shown by him becoming a mall elf, but he had figured something was better than nothing when he saw the advertisement in the paper. 

Despite having known the rest of the Gallaghers for over a decade, he always felt on the outside of their familial bubble. He knew some of them got along with him, okay, and some barely tolerated him, thinking he wasn't good enough for Ian. He couldn't fault them for that really, he knew he had many shortcomings, although Ian was no angel either. And he knew for sure **_nobody_** would love Ian like he did, even if he had a hard time showing it at times.

Even Sandy seemed to blend in like she'd always been there, and he had thought Tami had too. It was kinda refreshing to know she didn't always feel accepted, and maybe, just maybe, they could be something like friends. He really didn't have any of those; he had a tendency to make Ian the center of his universe, and he liked that, but maybe he had space to help Tami with this and build some kind of friendship. A banding together of the Gallagher Adjacents. Could be cool if it worked out, and he tried not to hope too much, but he secretly did. 

That was something Ian had ruined for him, if he was honest. He used to be good about not hoping for things but getting to marry Ian, his fondest and _most_ secret desire, he found it harder and harder not to hope. Even his stupid fuckin job as mall elf had been part of a hope to find legitimate work and give Ian a gift. He had thought maybe if at some point his job had been revealed, preferably on his terms, or never ever if he'd had his way, that Ian would have been proud of him. Now it was just gonna be one big hilarious joke, and Ian would probably be irritated that he had been dishonest. When they had _just_ had a conversation about being completely honest with each other. Ugh, he needed to think about something else.

"So I have been meaning to ask you," he waited for her hum of acknowledgment that she was waiting for his question, "What were your parents thinking with naming you Tami _Tami_ etti?" He emphasized sounding out the first part of her last name to clarify he meant that it was the same as her actual first name, "Like who does that to their kid?"

And with that, they were both laughing, and she launched into an explanation about how she had ended up with that first name from a second cousin or something that her mom had been close to. The rest of the ride was pretty easy, bantering back and forth. 

Pulling up to the Gallagher house, not far down the street from where she and Lip lived, she stopped in front to drop him off. They both looked up at the house that looked dark and empty, something very unusual for a house where there was always someone coming or going. Their laughter petered out when they realized simultaneously there was no light on in any of the windows except the Christmas lights put up by Sandy and Debbie in the front window with Franny's help. They gave each other questioning and spooked looks and shrugged. Not like he couldn't handle an empty house, or an intruder or whatever could be on the other side of the door. He'd dealt with way worse; rubbing his nose with his finger, he gathered his stuff as he prepared to get out of the relative safety of the car.

"So, um, I'm gonna go," then realized he'd have a problem hiding the shoes in the house with all the snoopy Gallagher's around, "Can you hide these at your house?"

"Sure, no problem." Looking back up at the house, "Weird, nobody's home."

"Yeah, it's all good." He went to open the car door, "Ian should be home in a few hours, and then I'm sure he's going to want to talk about why he didn't know I was working." Dramatic eye roll and sigh for her comedic benefit even if he _was_ low level worried about it. He got out of the car and turned around, "See ya, umm, thanks for helping with the shoes. I'll get you your money on Friday." Then he slammed the door and took the stairs up to the front door two at a time. Didn't need all that awkwardness. He turned when he had opened the door and waved when he saw she had waited to make sure he got into the house, and she took off finally. Strange. 

As he came into the house, he could see it wasn't completely dark after all, but only the light over the dining room table in the kitchen was on. Slowly making his way back to see if anyone was there and feeling all sorts of tension with the house's disconcerting quiet and emptiness. What the fuck.

He found Ian sitting by himself at the dining table in the mellow light. A fresh bottle of beer beside him. His face was inscrutable as he looked up and watched Mickey slowly come into the kitchen. Mickey swallowed and felt uncertain about what he should do. He wasn't even sure why Ian was home yet; his shift didn't end for a few hours. Ian still didn't say anything, and Mickey just kind of stood there unsure. Ian's gaze was intense and steady, with no smile, no clue about how he felt. It was scrambling Mickey's response system. He was mildly turned on by the stern effect while also unclear if he was in trouble and Ian was genuinely pissed with him.

"Mickey," said softly, but not a request. Much more of a command, "come here."

Swallowing thickly, Mickey moved forward, chewing on the edge of his lip. He had no idea what to expect. Dropping his bag in the chair by the head of the table, he stood next to Ian, unsure what exact kind of problem to expect but he could feel the adrenaline starting to pump through his system. And his confused wiring sent pulses of arousal to his groin.

Ian pushed his chair back a bit, gripped the waistband of Mickey's jeans, and jerked him sideways so he was in front of him, between Ian's spread thighs. The hands on his hips were firm, keeping him exactly where Ian wanted him. This was completely unfair because Ian _knew_ how much he got off on it, so now he was definitely turned on and still trying to keep his wits about him.

"Wanna tell me what you've been up to today?" In this position, Mickey was taller than Ian but he did not feel in a powerful position. He still couldn't tell if Ian was actually mad at him or not. He'd thought Ian would laugh about the job and then nag the shit out of him for lying. This. This was a serious inquiry. It was all throwing him off.

Blowing out a breath and trying to think how to say what he wanted to say, "Umm, workin'," he didn't need to specify, Ian obviously had seen the picture as evidence.

"Oh yeah?" Eyebrow raised, slow blink. "Doin' what exactly?"

Fuck, why did he always make him say stuff? And for the love of god, why did confessing things to Ian turn him on so goddamn much? It rarely even mattered what it was, somehow being forced to slow down, look Ian in the face and confess shit turned his crank. And the ginger fuck knew. He didn’t really use it as leverage as often as he could, thank god, but he used it enough that it was clear Mickey's secret was out. One of many secrets Ian knew. Being known that way was its own turn on. 

"Ummm, working at the mall," He looked away; eye contact was hard and embarrassing.

Using fingers to grip his chin, Ian brought his face back around, "Eyes on me."

When had his mouth gotten so dry?

Tipping his head to the side, "Doing what at the mall?" Ian was going to push him to say it all. 

Mickey knew his face was red; he was embarrassed and so fuckin hard he was having a difficult time keeping his hands at his side. Huffing because, really, this was stupid ridiculous. "Being a mall elf okay," he might deck Ian if he didn't just let it go, or ya know, he might just furiously jerk off if he kept talking to him like that and making him tell his secrets, "I'm a fucking mall elf, har har, laugh it up." This kind of situation always ran a _very fine edge_ between being hot as fuck and pissing him off; being annoyed that he was wired in such a fucked up way that _this_ did it for him and wanting to get Ian's cock shoved so far down his throat he couldn't breathe. 

"I'm not laughing, Mick," and he wasn't, shockingly. "How long?"

"What does it matter?" He still didn't know what to do with all of this, but he enjoyed the feeling of Ian bracketing his hips, hands squeezing rhythmically. Still, he wasn't exactly making eye contact, but he watched Ian's face, his brow that was so strong. It wasn't wrinkled like it got when he was pissed at Mickey. His cheeks weren't red like when he was frustrated with him. His jaw wasn't ticking like when he was disappointed.

Fine, he would play along, "Three weeks."

Ian pursed his lips and looked away, eyes squinting as he tried to think of something specific. "So not long after our talk about you really needing to get a job?"

Mickey just nodded and shrugged. Dismissive, didn't matter.

"Wish you woulda told me, remember the part about no more secrets?" And now Ian was looking back at him, but he still didn't look angry. He could be difficult as fuck to read sometimes. 

"Yeah, I know, but I'm a fuckin mall elf," even saying it made him want to die, "how fuckin' stupid do you have to be in order to be a fuckin' mall elf? " And now he could feel his defenses coming up, and that adrenaline was about to get away from him and he'd do something stupid. He crossed his arms over his chest and heaved in a deep breath, trying to just maintain.

"You know what I hear, Mick?" He tipped his head to the other side and rubbed his hands from Mickey's hips up under his shirt along his ribcage and back down. 

Continuing to clench his hands in fists and tightening his lips into a defiant line in an effort not to engage even while he knew the battle was already lost. He could never resist open-ended questions from Ian. "What? What do you fuckin' hear?" Mickey promised himself if this was all heading towards a joke, he was going to knock Ian out of that chair, march up to their room and lock the door. Not sure how he'd do that with an accordion door, but he'd figure it out. Ian could sleep on the couch. Alone. Served him right.

"I hear a husband who cared about what I was saying and looked for a solution." Back up his ribs and down to his hips, "I hear a husband who was willing to take a job he didn't exactly want to do to try and appease my desire for him to have legal work."

Biting his lip, hard, Mickey looked away, and Ian let him. He swallowed with the swelling emotion. This was a lot to take in.

Ian continued, "I hear a husband who loves me enough to sacrifice on my behalf."

The reframe was _everything_ Mickey would have never been able to articulate wanting, but it was one more way Ian showed he could see him. He had always been able to see him. He just nodded his head because what else could he do?

Squeezing his hips hard enough to start to leave bruises now, Ian waited for Mickey to look back at him, which of course he would when he was getting such enticingly rough treatment, his hips ached, and he loved it, wanted more. "That's the hottest thing I can imagine, Mickey." And with that Ian launched out of his chair and they were kissing frantically while he was hoisted onto the table. A fruit basket went flying, and the beer bottle tipped over and clunked to the floor. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting more of Ian and his taste in his mouth. And some sort of friction.

Separating their mouths, Ian used a hand on his chest to push him onto his back on the table, thighs bracketing his hips. He quickly went to work to undo the buttons on Mickey's jeans. He got them undone and yanked down just barely far enough for Ian to fish his cock out, and then he let the band of Mickey's briefs snap across his balls. The zing made Mickey arch and try to sit up, but Ian put the hand back on his chest, forcing him back down, and all he could do was reach back and grip the table edge and tip his head back. Moments later, Ian swallowed him down. Years of practice meant he knew how to drive Mickey wild.

Pulling back and playing with the head, "So hot Mick," back down and up, "Makes me so hot to know you were out there working to support us."

Fuck, Mickey was burning up. This was going to be fast and messy. Looking down at Ian as he popped off, a trail of saliva from Ian's lips to his dick. So goddamn erotic.

"I don't give a fuck what you do; just out there trying is enough," flicking his tongue across the head where he was always extra sensitive, "Makes me fuckin' proud." And then back down to the base again. 

Oh god, oh god, that was all it took, gripping the edge of the table hard and arching, he came embarrassingly fast, dumping a load in Ian's mouth so quickly he could hear him choke a little. And laugh. He'd obviously been a little surprised by how quick he was off the mark. Fuck, one more thing to be embarrassed about when he was done floating in the good feelings.

Ian swallowed his spend and came off his dick with a pop. Bracing his hands on the table beside Mickey's hips, he looked down at him; his smile had a wicked tinge. Mickey reached up and rubbed the bit of come still on the corner of his lip before bringing it to his own mouth to lick it off. Ian just continued to gaze at him with heat and mischief as their breathing evened out.

Slowly it dawned on Mickey that he was spread out on the dining room table like a slutty feast, and he had a worry about any of the Gallaghers coming in to see him. It wouldn't be the first time they got caught fucking, but he'd rather avoid it. "Where is everyone?"

"At Lip and Tami's, I bribed them with KFC and Pizza to go help Lip with his house repairs for the evening to give us a few hours to ourselves." Reaching under Mickey's shirt, he tweaked his nipple which made Mickey grunt. "Figured now that you’re a working husband, you deserved a little special treatment."

Smiling wide, "That so?" That was awfully sweet and let him relax, just gazing up at Ian towering over him. Then he frowned as he remembered, "and why are you home early?"

"Told the boss I was feeling sick, needed to go home," Another tweak to his other nipple. "So we're gonna play, Mick." Hand sliding down to his spent dick. Beginning to rub him where he was extra sensitive. "You down?"

And fuck, Mickey knew what he meant. They were gonna play their little game that ended with him getting fucked **hard**. Mickey knew he could say no, could end it here, but he didn't want to. He always wanted this, and they so rarely got a chance to indulge in privacy. He nodded his head.

"You know that's not gonna work, Mick." More rubbing, jerking his soft cock.

And it made Mickey want to squirm out of his skin. He was too sensitive; it made his stomach tremble; he wanted to get away from the sensation even while he craved it. Swallowing hard, "Yes, I want it." Another breath. “Yes, I want to play." More of the forced confessions. Cheeks red, he arched as Ian circled the head and squeezed just past the point of pleasure until it hurt so good. He wasn't sure he was going to survive, spread on the table, debauched with his pants around his hips, and Ian overloading him with sensation. Just when he thought it was too much, Ian backed off and stood up. 

Looking down on Mickey from his full height made him feel even more vulnerable, and much like the over-stimulation, he hated it and craved it. He loved it when Ian didn't let him have his walls, his bravado. Took control and commanded him to do his bidding. Mickey lived for these moments. 

"So pretty like this," And he just took a moment to look, and Mickey could do nothing but let him. And wait for his direction. "We're gonna go upstairs where it's more comfortable and get you ready; maybe I'll put that heavy plug in I know you love."

Mickey felt himself shiver and had to cover his face at just the thought, and it was too soon, but his dick gave a twitch. His hands were removed from his face.

"Nope, eyes on me tonight." An eyebrow lifted, "no hiding." And then he just waited. This was how it was going to play out.

"Okay, no hiding." Although he had called Ian Sir and Daddy a few times, which was its own kind of hotness, they didn't really do titles. At the end of the day, _this_ worked for him more than anything else, the simple act of having to acknowledge his desires verbally to Ian. To offer up all his weaknesses. 

"Very good," Ian's voice sounded like a purr; he was so satisfied. "Bring your backpack." He pulled Mickey up to standing and headed towards the stairs.

Mickey quickly hitched up his pants so he didn't trip and snagged his bag as he was towed past. He didn't want to miss out on any of this, and he most certainly wasn't going to let go of Ian's hand. Getting into their room, he immediately started to strip, shirt off, pants off. He pulled his briefs off and started to take off his absurd candy cane striped socks before he was stopped.

"Ah, ah, socks stay on, pull them up." Ian directed.

Looking up at him questioning, he couldn't be fucking serious. Who left their socks on to fuck, especially these ones? Ian's face was serious. And oh god, could a person expire from embarrassment?

"And put on the ears." Said before Mickey had even decided if he was going to do the socks. Just leaning against the wall, watching, arms crossed.

He hoped he would just perish on the spot. "Seriously?" Please let Ian be joking.

"Do you want the plug?" And now Ian had his most grave look, like he wasn't fucking around in the least. Brow raised. More waiting.

And gooddamnit, of course, he wanted the fucking plug. Ian knew that, but really this was too far. Wasn't it? He had an internal battle at his simultaneous desire to tell Ian to fuck off and storm off for being a stupid fuck and desperately wanting to do precisely what Ian commanded. No matter what it was. And the perverse reality that the more embarrassing the request, the more he hated it, the more it turned him on. Fuck.

Huffing and giving in, like they both knew he would, he retrieved his bag. Opening it up, he put the popcorn on the bedside table; glancing at Ian, he saw him smile a bit in question, but he didn't ask. Digging his costume out partially to get to the ears that had fallen towards the bottom, he retrieved them and tossed the bag on the floor with the contents half out. Three weeks of putting on the stupid ears meant he could pop them on easily and could be sure they sat on the edge of his ear properly just by feel. They had invested a fair expense in costumes which were well made, and the ears were no exception. Once put on, they actually looked like a part of his ears. Glaring at Ian once they were on, he mirrored his pose with crossed arms.

Ian didn’t respond to his attitude, just "socks up."

For the love of god. His no-good treacherous dick was valiantly trying to stiffen, but he wasn't a teenager anymore, and it was going to take a little longer. Sighing and uncrossing his arms, he resentfully reached down and pulled his socks up. Up over his knees. Just below his thighs. Jesus, this was fuckin' dumb.

"Put on the hat." Same monotone command.

If Ian wanted him in the full outfit, he was going to draw the line. He would definitely draw the line. Almost Certainly. 

Whatever. He grabbed the hat and put it on. The tail with the bell flopped over in front of his face, but he pushed it back. 

Ian uncrossed his arms and approached. He reached up and gently ran his fingers along his ear and the prosthetic addition. Mickey closed his eyes and hummed, he loved being manhandled by Ian, but he also loved some of these softer touches. Ian cupped his cheeks and kissed him. Slow at first, almost sweet before deepening it. Mickey reached up under his shirt to rub his chest. He loved how thick he was these days and hairy; really, all the hair on his body worked for him. 

Ian began to pull back, but Mickey fisted his hands in that hair, and while he didn't pull hard enough to hurt, he kept him in place. He felt Ian smile against his lips and give in, continuing to just kiss him for another minute, wrapping him up in his arms, so he was surrounded. Ian was generous when Mickey got greedy about wanting him close. When he did pull back, Mickey was settled; he'd let go of some of his anxiousness and was ready to play.

"You make a fuckin' cute grumpy little elf," Ian was back to rubbing his ears. "Saw that text picture while working and had to resist going to the bathroom to rub one out." Leaning down to nip at his ear the way he knew turned Mickey on, he continued but now in a whisper, "Seeing you in that outfit and knowing you were out there on the grind." Switching sides, "You are such a good husband."

He wasn't sure that was right; he was probably a pretty shitty husband by all rights. But he didn't care what anyone else thought; Ian's regard was the only thing he sought to be happy. Hearing him say that made him feel like he was glowing from the inside out. 

Ducking his head, he just put it against Ian's chest under his chin for a minute to breathe him in. Sometimes he couldn't believe he got to have this. All those nights during his first stint in prison, staring up at the bunk above him, yearning for this. Lonely nights in Mexico, feeling forgotten by everyone except the Cartel dregs he was working for who only kept him around because he was useful. Ian rubbed his back soothingly, knowing sometimes he got this way. A little shuddery in his breathing, a little lost in his head. The gentle touches continued until he nodded his head and stepped back. _Now_ he was ready to do this.

Ian stepped back and took off his shirt. "On the bed, on your back." Mickey clambered onto the bed and laid down. "Knees up, legs spread." Watching Ian as he got into position, he watched as he began unbuckling his belt. The snick of his belt always sent a spike of desire through him, reminded him of a long time ago. Ian didn't take his pants off, just unbuttoned and unzipped them to give a little more room. Ian quickly took off his shoes and socks, knowing how much Mickey found his bare feet a turn on. Which was mortifying; only weirdo's found bare feet a turn on and he manfully tried to ignore the sight even while his cock filled halfway. Instead, he watched Ian walk over to the box of sex toys they kept on a shelf, half-dressed and somehow looking regal and like everything in the room, including Mickey, was placed just so for his pleasure. 

Mickey heard him rummage around in the box. He wanted to close his legs and get under the covers, hide, but that wasn't how it worked. He took a deep breath and stayed in the moment and out of his head. Ian had seen him in _way_ more compromising positions. Ian didn't stretch it out and returned moments later.

Kneeling on the bed between his legs, "Wider."

Mickey spread his thighs wider until he felt the stretch. Mickey began clenching his hands rhythmically in the bedspread to give him something to focus on.

"Hands up on the headboard." Ian pulled out the warming lube. The strawberry would come later when he was actually fucking him. 

Ian always knew when he needed something, and he gratefully reached up to grip the rungs. He gripped tighter as he felt Ian penetrate him with two fingers as a start. Breathing through the burn, he arched his hips, looking for more. Ian splayed the large paw not opening him up across his pelvis, giving him something to push against.

His rim and hole were extra sensitive after having just come and he curled his toes, trying not to tense up. Ian found and rubbed his prostate, which made his hips twitch, it was bordering on too much again, and all he could do was writhe and take it. Breathing hard to endure as Ian relentlessly rubbed and added a third finger. Growling and feeling sweat pop out on his forehead, he did his best to meet the sensation, to accept and relish what Ian was giving him. He was just starting to get there when Ian stopped. 

He took a moment to breathe, deep in and out. The warming lube was just starting to activate, and Mickey felt himself clench hard several times; he wanted that plug in him so bad. Right now.

Ian did not disappoint as he began pressing the shiny silver tip into him, slowly working him back open. It was different than taking fingers or even a dick; it wasn't soft or malleable. It was hard and implacable, and he was forced to yield in the most intimate way. "Eyes open," Ian said quietly, but stopped filling him up, waiting. 

Mickey hadn't realized he had closed his eyes, but he opened them and looked at Ian, who smiled down at him. He then split his time between watching Mickey's face and his ass as he took the plug entirely inside himself. He felt his rim close around the base once it was fully seated. He felt utterly riven up the ass. He stomped a foot on the bed twice as he felt the weight of it, making him clench around the smooth exterior, each clench causing it to move. 

Ian used the hook on the end of it to shift it inside him, managing to tap his prostate several times, and Mickey couldn't stay still, curling in on himself slightly. He watched Ian watch him, now intently focused on where the plug was inserted. His face was slack with desire as he watched Mickey struggle to work through how to handle the stimulation. Mickey was still only half-hard, but there was no question he was gonna get there. He felt like a butterfly pinned under glass for observation. 

"No touching yourself or coming until I tell you, got it, Mick?" Waiting.

"Fuck, yeah, I got it." His hips seemed to have a mind of their own as they rocked on the bed, pressing up into the hand on his abdomen, keeping him in place for the most part. "You gonna let me come?" It was a fair question. There had been that week in the stupid chastity device. A week of getting fucked by Ian while not being able to come himself. He knew he was bright red just thinking about that. How he'd been his husband's personal fuck hole while Ian whispered filthy things in his ear and denied him. All. Week. And although he'd acted mildly put out by it, the truth is that every moment of that time was firmly in his spank bank. And Ian knew it.

Along with the times they had used the ball gag that made him drool obscenely down his chest while Ian teased him until he was a mess or fucked him into a puddle. Or when he choked him like he meant it, sometimes leaving enough evidence, he had to wear a high collard shirt for days afterward. Or the time they used the plug currently inside him and put weights on the end and kept it swinging like a pendulum, working his hole and rim mercilessly. Fuck, they may not be able to figure out the communication shit, but somehow their fucking just got more intense, hotter, the longer they were together. 

He was finally able to calm down slightly now that Ian wasn't working his prostate relentlessly. He felt exposed as he anticipated what was next.

"How you feel, Mickey?" Ian just kept rubbing his thighs and lower stomach. Scratching through his pubic hair. Jerking his dick occasionally but blessedly leaving his ass alone for a moment.

"Good." Ian's brow let him know that wasn't good enough. Fuck. Fine. "Full, open." Swallowing hard, "Achy." Tightening his fists on the rungs, "and I love it." Ian always pushed him to acknowledge he was on board with what they were doing. Mickey was never sure if it was because he knew how much he got off on being forced to say it or if it was merely his way of checking in. Whatever. In for a penny, in for a pound.

"What do you want to do now?" A small smirk on his face.

Stupid fucking ginger. He knew what came next; it's what Mickey always wanted to come next at this point. Blowing out a breath in exasperation, he just went ahead and fucking said it without further prompting, "I wanna choke on your dick."

"Oh yeah?" Head tipping to the side, he was definitely teasing him now. "And what will I be doing while you choke on my dick?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was now fully hard and had to resist reaching down for a little relief. "Want you to make me take it."

"Okay, Mick, we can do that." Moving off the bed. "On the floor, on your knees."

Mickey's hands ached from how hard he had been gripping, but he just shook them out and slid off the bed, having to pause for a minute and lean on his thighs while he caught his breath. Moving like that caused the plug to shift, and it was a lot to take in. When he had himself under control, he looked at Ian, now leaning against the wall, legs spread, hips out. Waiting for Mickey to take what he wanted. 

Crawling over, he didn't waste any time, jerking his jeans down his thighs and getting his mouth on that delicious cock. This wasn't his first rodeo, but he got a little over-eager and choked at first, trying to take too much too fast. 

"Hey, hey, slow down." Ian slid his hand into Mickey's hair and held onto the strands tight. And twisted, controlling movement. "Let me help you," pulling his head back a little. 

Guiding his head back down a little slower, Mickey could take more of him. He wanted it, and Ian was teasing him as he gentled him down. 

"Knee's spread." Using his foot to tap the knee with his bare foot to reinforce the direction.

Mouth full of cock, Mickey complied and let out a whine as it caused his hole to work harder on the heavy plug inside of him. The weight, the fullness, the ache on his rim was going to make him lose his goddamn mind.

"Hands behind your back." He used his unoccupied hand, circled Mickey's wrist, and moved it off of his hip. Then set that hand on his shoulder, occasionally stroking his neck and ear. Sometimes using it to gently restrict his airway. 

Mickey put both hands in the small of his back, clasping his forearms with the opposite hands to keep them in place; he was probably going to have self-inflicted bruises tomorrow. He hoped he had bruises tomorrow, preferably some left by Ian. He knew his hole was going to feel stretched and puffy, used. He couldn't wait.

"Eyes back on me." Ian guided as he gripped his hair even tighter and began feeding Mickey his dick. Slow and steady while Mickey looked up at him. He knew he must look ridiculous with his jaw straining to take him, spit all down his chin but seeing Ian's face flushed with arousal made it all worth it. 

When Ian got to the back of his throat, he backed off and then pushed again, giving Mickey a minute to adjust and synchronize his breathing. "Ready?" and he waited for the slight nod. Then he pressed back in and didn't stop. Forcing mickey to take him down his throat. Cutting off his breathing momentarily.

On the first foray, he pulled back pretty quickly, and Mickey moaned when his throat was free. It was so good. His eyes were tearing up, and his throat ached. He needed more.

Not giving him much of a reprieve, Ian started again, pressing further, leaving it for longer. Mickey loved how close he got to Ian's little orange happy trail every time he took him in deeper. He kept his eyes mostly on Ian's face as he grunted through his arousal, but his eyes did occasionally roam to his meaty chest and abs and the mat of hair. He was _so_ beautiful. He felt warmth bloom in his own chest, just getting to look at him.

Too soon, "one more, gonna make this one count. Ready?" Ian was looking at him intently, making sure.

He nodded as enthusiastically as he could while having a dick shoved in his mouth. He wanted it to count. 

"Good boy," Mumbled as he moved Mickey further down on his cock. 

Hearing that made Mickey whimper and clench the plug even harder, shuddering and trying to focus as Ian went further than before. It was a struggle. He was big, giving no quarter, and Mickey did his best to take it and not gag. He didn't want this to end. This was the best part. If his arms weren't behind his back on command, he would have fist-pumped the air when his nose was buried in Ian's pubes. He couldn't breathe, and he wouldn't be able to stay here long, but it was peaceful. Crammed full of Ian, hole plugged, doing whatever made Ian pleased with him. This was his happy place. 

His vision dimmed a little from lack of oxygen, and he felt Ian start to pull him back, but he resisted. He wanted just a bit longer. Ian momentarily gave in, pushing him slightly further down, but it couldn't last. Ian pulled him off just as everything started to swim around him. He choked and sucked air into his deprived lungs and felt as Ian ran his fingers soothingly through his hair. He leaned against that thick abdomen he had just been admiring and caught his breath. 

"Mmmm, so good, Mick," the hair petting was lulling him, coupled with tracing the shell of his ears, which Ian still seemed intrigued with, "so good at that." Cupping the nape of his neck and holding him close, "So good for me."

And mickey unclasped his hands and held onto Ian's hips. Ian didn't make him put his hands back where they had been. They both just rested for a minute. Ian's big dick was comically next to his cheek, covered in the precome he was leaking and Mickey's saliva. Mickey would try to take it in again, but he knew that wasn't how Ian wanted to finish, so he waited for direction. And just breathed. And if maybe he rubbed his nose and cheeks in Ian's crotch area so he could smell like him, that was his business. 

Laughing softly, "You're like a big cat, sometimes." Said without judgment. "Alright, back on the bed. Same position as before." Ian helped him stand and held him steady as he swayed when the plug shifted.

The warming lube made him doubly aware of the sensations caused by the plug. Being stretched already had its own burn, and it was amped up by the lube. His cock was at full attention and had a steady stream of come drooling out of the end. It was getting hard to think about anything else, even to focus enough to walk to the bed. Ian helped him over as he wobbled when he took his first step, shivering almost continuously as the plug continued to shift, inconsistently tapping his prostate. Finally, finally, he was back on the bed, turned over, and knee's up. How could a few feet feel so far away? He felt slightly more grounded when he gripped the rungs again, like maybe he would be able to survive the night. 

Ian let him breathe through it all for a few moments before reminding him, "Eyes open, baby."

Oh god, maybe he wouldn't survive. Ian rarely used terms of endearment, but his guts twisted up, and his chest ached when he did. Deep affection for Ian in these moments could be overwhelming. He forced his eyes open; he could see that Ian had stripped now and watched as he climbed onto the bed with him, between his thighs. 

Looking at both of their dicks it was clear neither of them were going to last long. Ian scooted forward until Mickey had to lift his hips to rest on Ian's thighs. It put him on display for Ian. He could feel the blush traveling all the way up his chest. Ian noticed as he followed it with his hand leaning up on the other arm and kissed him. It put Mickey bent at a somewhat awkward angle, but he wasn't going to complain as he strained up into the kiss. 

Ian pulled back, and Mickey rested back onto the pillows, trying not to rush this along while also being ready to come. His balls were heavy and tight, his cock was rigidly resting against his stomach, leaking a pool. And his hole was working the plug inside of himself, needing something different. Something more. He needed Ian. They were back to that edge where his neediness could spill over into anxiety, and the moment would be lost, but Ian was _so_ good to him. He knew. In here, in the bedroom, he could read him like an open book.

"It's ok, I got you." First, he gripped his hips hard, even harder than earlier, which immediately settled him down. "You need me to take out the plug?"

He did, he really did. He couldn't even play coy about asking for what he wanted now. "Yes, take it out. Need you." Feeling Ian move down to where the end of the plug was, Ian pulled just a little. The stretch on his rim intensified, and Ian left it there. No, no, no. "Please, Ian, need your cock in me now."

"I know you do Mickey, you'll get it soon." Pushing the plug back in and then back out until the widest part was stretching him, the other hand still gripped his hip, marked him. He moved his hands to cup Mickey's balls, tug them down, and it would have sent him off the bed if Ian hadn't kept him under control. Pushed him back firmly to the mattress so he couldn't move. That was better, no choices. Ian would dick him down when he was ready. Deep breath in and blowing it out as Ian pulled it partially out again. Still teasing. 

He finally settled, and Ian slowly removed the plug, giving his body time to adjust. He always hated this part, being so full and now empty. Ian didn't make him wait this time, just slathered on some of the regular strawberry lube and entered him, no stopping. Mickey would swear he had a pavlovian response to the sweet smell of the lube as his dick twitched hard, and he had to clench his toes to keep from coming; he groaned as he attempting to hold back the tide. 

He watched Ian's face, realized he was also trying not to blow his load immediately as he tipped his head back and clenched his eyes closed. They both took a moment to breathe, and when Ian looked back at him, they both snickered, relishing their mutual success. 

And then Ian didn't wait any longer, just started pounding into him, deep, sure strokes. He knew how much Mickey loved getting fucked hard, loved being used, especially after so much edging. Oh fuck, if he wasn't careful, he might come untouched. Ian bottomed out on every stroke, and this particular position gave him leverage as he moved one of Mickey's legs, still in the stupid long socks, over his shoulder to get even that little bit deeper. Mickey arched his back and took all he had to give. Loved all of it.

"Touch yourself, Mick, gonna come soon." Said as Ian groaned and clasped his thighs even harder, jerking him forward just a tad.

Letting go of a rung with one hand and using the thigh wrapped around Ian's hip as leverage to pull him in with each thrust, he reached down and gripped himself. It only took several strokes and then it was over, both shouting. Mickey giving himself some semblance of a pearl necklace as he shot up his chest. Simultaneously Ian slammed in and held, and Mickey could feel the flood of warmth. He worked his hole to get every drop, loving this part so so much, maybe most of all - Ian inside of him, keeping him warm. 

Mickey collapsed back, not touching his dick any further, feeling a little raw inside and out. Blissed out. Ian slumped forward to rest on his chest, and Mickey absently wondered if he realized he had just planted his face right in a glob of his cooling come. He'd figure it out soon enough. 

Taking a moment, they let their breathing slowly return to normal. Finally, Ian leaned up, and by the look of disgust on his face, he just realized what he had done, and Mickey couldn't help it; he snorted and then laughed. Ian was such a princess sometimes.

"Ewe, gross," he wiped his hand with his face and then realized that just meant it was now all over on his hand. He quickly wiped them on the sheets, leaned back, and pulled out. 

Mickey groaned as he did; his rim was so tender now. And even though Ian had just been grossed out by the unexpected come puddle he had set his face in, he did that thing. The thing that Mickey never wanted to admit he loved, that featured in his jerk off materials on repeat. Ian leaned back, grabbed behind his knees, still with holiday socks covering them, and pinned them against his chest, "Hold 'em for me," and waited for Mickey to hold himself open. Graciously he let Mickey turn his face into the pillow, allowed him to avoid eye contact. He then proceeded to inspect. Used his fingers on his sloppy hole to make sure he was okay despite their rough play. He did it in a somewhat clinical fashion, which somehow was even worse. And by worse, he meant better. And hot. Fuck, this evening was not ending how he thought it would have. 

"You look okay, gonna be sore for a few days." He stuck one finger in him and felt around, nailing his prostate gratuitously, because he liked to see Mickey jump and moan. Mickey knew because he always giggled a little after doing it. It was humiliating. And if his dick had any ability to get hard right now, it would have. "May want to take a warm bath with some Epsom salt tomorrow if you get a chance." He pulled his finger out, tapped Mickey's hands to release his thighs, and wiped his hands on the sheets. The sheets were destroyed for the night. Ian settled beside him. 

Mickey reached for the smokes on the bedside table and lit one up, took a few drags, and the nicotine hitting his fucked out system was nirvana. He was positively boneless and floaty. Except now he was a mess, and it was quickly moving from a hot mess that had him pulsing with low-level arousal to one that would need to be cleaned up. 

Passing the cigarette to Ian to finish, he made to get up but felt a hand on his arm. Turning to look, Ian was smiling at him, soft and sweet, blowing smoke out his nose. "Gimme one more kiss as a grumpy little elf, and then you can shower."

God, he'd momentarily forgotten about the ears and the socks. At least they hadn't fucked with that stupid hat on which had fallen off at some point. Rolling his eyes, "fuck you, man." But he did it. He leaned down and kissed Ian for all he was worth. The novelty still hadn't worn off even after time in prison together and after getting married and his recently ended honeymoon. Sometimes he was unsure how he got to be so lucky, even when shit was hard. So, yeah, he kissed the fuck out of his husband, then smacked him on the hip and went to take a shower.

They had this routine down as well; when they played hard, Mickey took a shower while Ian changed the sheets before he joined him. Blessedly, with no other Gallaghers in the house, there was plenty of hot water. Ian made sure Mickey was clean and cared for, and Mickey scrubbed Ian's back. When they made their way back to their room, Mickey could see Ian had also brought up two water glasses before joining him in the shower. Mickey drank half of his glass, feeling parched. The water was soothing on his sore throat. 

Possibly the gayest thing about him outside loving to bottom was how much Mickey enjoyed climbing into the bed after Ian had changed the sheets. Yeah, the room was cluttered because neither of them were neatnik's, but fresh sheets were just such a luxury. He hadn't had that growing up really ever; it was one of the many ways Ian cared for him. 

Snuggling up against Ian's chest, resting his head back on his shoulder, he reached over for the tub of popcorn, popped the lid, and picked out the most perfect caramel corn and cheese corn pieces he could find and turned. "Open up, you gotta try this and don't be a fussy bitch about it." 

Ian rolled his eyes, "I've had caramel corn and cheesy popcorn before, ya know? " but he opened his mouth and tried it. 

Mickey just watched his face as he finally registered how goddamn good it was. Smug as fuck, "Right?" Turning back around, he pulled out a handful for himself, "We got Tami to thank for introducing us to this shit. Fuckin' like crack, I can already tell." He proceeded to munch through a handful.

"Fuck, that's good," Ian said as he took some more. They just sat there quietly enjoying the treat for a bit before Ian broke in, "So, you and Tami hung out?" More popcorn, at this rate, the bucked wasn't going to last long, whatever. "You becoming buds?"

Mickey had a moment of worry, unsure if that would be a problem for Ian. Maybe he wouldn't like him being actual friends with her, if that's even what he and Tami were becoming. "Maybe?" Said like a question, easier to feel Ian out.

"That's really great; it would be cool if you two were tight." Ian squeezed the arm around his chest. 

Mickey swallowed the lump in his throat. Of course, Ian wanted that for him. Ian really was the good husband in their relationship. Then he figured it didn't matter. They were going to be each other's person for life. The gold band on his left finger said so. He settled back into Ian's chest and proceeded to let him in on the super-secret plan to get the old motorcycle rotting away in the Milkovich shed minimally presentable by Christmas for Lip. 

**Christmas Day**

Goddamn, the Gallaghers were loud when they were all together, and they seemed _extra_ loud today. It was early afternoon on Christmas Day, and nobody had anywhere to be with most things being shut down anyway for the holiday. Plus, Fiona had been able to fly back from living her exotic life on the beaches of Southern California and so everyone was eager to get some time with her since she was only in town for a few days. He had been surprised when she gave him a big hug just like she did all of her siblings, apologized that she hadn't been able to make it back for the wedding but was so glad it had been recorded so she could watch it. He wasn't sure what in the topsy-turvy hell was happening these days, but he'd just blushed, accepted the hug, and grunted a "no worries." 

Stepping outside onto the back porch to have a smoke in peace, Mickey couldn't help but smile when thinking of Ian opening up his gift. He had been overwhelmed with excitement when he realized what they were and had promptly put them on. It was a dumb thing to be that excited over some new kicks but Mickey couldn't help but feel a little delighted that he'd made him happy. It made being a stupid mall elf worth it. Mostly.

He also couldn't judge as he pulled his new coat around his shoulders and zipped up. Tucking the ends of his new scarf inside the jacket for maximum warmth and pulled on the fingerless gloves. All in handsome shades of forest green. Ian knew how much he hated being cold. And a book. Some fairy shit called The Five Love Languages. He planned on hiding that somewhere never to be found because he could practically see Ian's gungho _let's work on our relationship_ excitement bubbling up as he had unwrapped it. 

It was good to get some fresh crisp winter air with his smoke since his stomach was churning a little. He'd eaten too much of that fucking addictive popcorn. He'd seen the tin sitting beside the tree, opened by Tami and left out for people to graze on but there was so much food nobody had dipped in yet to try it. After Mickey saw Tami check it for the third time he'd sighed and figured he could be a popcorn ambassador for her. After everyone had their first handful as he he made the rounds, it had disappeared quickly. He was sure it was now well on it's way to being a tradition. He felt pretty lame doing it but Tami had been beside herself so in the end he just shrugged it off. The things he did for this family. His family now he guessed. 

Even that warm thought couldn't fully keep the anxiety he had been trying to push aside from resurfacing as he thought about the fact that his obviously seasonal job had just ended. He would need to find something, but he felt defeated before he even started. His legal job prospects boiled down to basically being able to be a professional sign spinner. Oh goody.

He took a hard drag, trying to move past his anxiousness so he could enjoy today and worry about that tomorrow. He heard the back door open up behind him and glanced back to see Lip coming out. Fuck, he'd been hoping for a few minutes alone, although he would have been happy to see Ian. Whatever, he passed over his pack of smokes. Lip had mostly quit but normally still bummed a few when they were at family gatherings. 

Standing looking out on the back lawn, Mickey figured Lip wasn't going to say much, which was fine. There was no love lost between them. Hearing Lip clear his throat and blow out smoke, Mickey glanced over at him and saw him looking at his profile. "What?"

"I saw what you did in there, with the popcorn." He had a raised brow like he expected Mickey to deny it.

"Whatever, man." If he saw, he saw. Mickey wasn't going to deny it but they didn't need to have some _moment_ about it either. 

Lip seemed to let it go but then continued talking, "I understand from Tami you and Iggy got the bike in working shape?" Lip squinted a little while looking at him like questioned if that was possible.

_Fuck you, Lip_. He didn't say that. He was trying to keep the peace. 

"Yeah," shrug, "So I guess if anything is wrong with it, you can blame it on us." He wasn't going to tell Lip that Iggy and him and spent _way_ more hours than he had planned to get it running. 

In an unexpected windfall event, Terry had gotten picked up for a parole violation the morning after Mickey's elf secret was discovered and would be back in jail for at least the next four months, so they had been able to work on it in the Milkovich shed. Between Iggy, who had held off on getting high until they were done working on the bike each day, himself and google, they had figured out how to do way more on it than expected. They had even made a trip to a scrap yard at the edges of town, which had been kind of interesting, honestly. Working with Iggy like that, something he had never done as an adult, let alone doing something legal, had been really cool. He kind of hoped they could find some other project to do together in the future. He had a few ideas he was going to float past him. 

The end result had been a bike that desperately needed a paint job and some new chrome but with a bunch of elbow grease had cleaned up real nice and was mechanically sound. At least he thought it was. Lip was the expert, though, so if he was out here to bust his balls about fucking something up, he was just going to go inside. Because fuck him.

"Nah, man." He took another deep drag, "I just spent about an hour checking it over. You both did good work." Chuckling a little like he couldn't believe it, "Like really good work."

"Oh," Mickey didn't know what to do with that. "Good." Whatever, he took the last drag and prepared to go in so he could get out of this awkward situation.

"Why didn't you ever tell me you were good with mechanical stuff?" Now Lip was looking at him directly, expecting a response.

"What for?" Why would any of that make a difference?

"Well, with your skill, you could work at the bike shop if you wanted to." He took another drag, "And if you didn’t want to work with me, you could probably find another shop to take you on." Blowing out smoke, he took another drag down to the filter before putting the cherry out, "You've got real talent."

Mickey scoffed, right.

"I'm serious, Mickey." Looking even more intently at him, like he wanted him to really get it.

"Oh, Um." Fuck, he did **not** see this come. "Thanks." He could feel his cheeks warm at the praise. 

"So, do you want to?" Lip wrapped his jacket around himself, clearly not planning to go inside until they finished this conversation, "Iggy too if he's interested and not high while working."

Wait, what? "I don't know what you are talkin' about, man?" He kinda thought he did know, but he didn't want to get excited if he'd misunderstood.

Smirking a little, Lip clarified, "Working at the bike shop. You should come to work for us. We got more work than we can handle most weeks. You can learn a ton, and once we're confident in your skills, which I don't think will take long, you can work mostly independently."

He felt his stomach flutter with excitement. He wasn't sure he could work with Lip, and he was shocked Lip was willing to work with him. "You fuckin' with me?" It was a far better job than spinning signs or being an elf. He didn't want to get excited only to have his hopes dashed. "You fuckin' hate being around me; why would you offer me a job?"

"First, I **am** serious; you can come in after the new year and talk logistics like working hours and hourly rate with Brad." And now, turning to look at him directly, he asked, "And why do you think I hate you?"

Sputtering as Mickey felt put on the spot, "Your always a condescending prick to me like I'm fuckin' stupid." Puling his scarf tighter around his neck against the brutal cold, Mickey would have stormed away if he wasn't so invested in considering if he could work with Lip. Because he wanted the job. If it really was an option, he wanted it. Bad. "And you think I'm a shitty choice for Ian." Shrugging more. He'd known all of this, and none of it had stopped him from marrying Ian. Fuck it, he grabbed the pack and lit another one, then handed the pack to Lip so he could do the same. 

Nodding his head in acknowledgment of what Mickey had said, Lip pulled out another cigarette and clarified, "Nah, that's just my personality. I probably _am_ a condescending prick; I have been told that by multiple people, so I have to believe it's true, although I don't try to be." Then rolling his eyes at himself, he clarified, "most of the time." Shrugging, "Sorry, man." 

Lip lit up again and cleared his throat before continuing, "And yeah, at one time, I couldn't see how you were good for Ian, but I don't feel that way anymore. You two are disgustingly in love with each other." He grimaced like it was the worst thing to watch and Mickey just flipped him off. "Even when you are pissed with each other, you don't like to be separated. And you give Ian stability that none of us have been able to provide for him." Twisting his lips to the side like he was considering what to say, and it was kinda hard, he finally said, "You're good for him, Micky." 

They both abruptly turned to look straight out at the back of the lawn as the conversation got unexpectedly emotional. They smoked in silence for a few minutes.

"So, anyway," Lip continued, after the pause became more awkward than talking, "You should consider it."

"Yeah, man," Looking away so Lip couldn't see his face, he felt the smile he couldn't contain break out, holy shit. How was this even a possibility? He really didn't want to fuck this up. "Yeah, I would definitely be interested." Trying to play it just a little bit cool. 

"Good, good." Flicking ash, "Glad to hear it." Another drag, "I know it's not as exciting as being a professional elf, but I hope you can settle for being a boring mechanic." And Lip was snorting with laughter until Mickey hit him on the arm hard.

"Ow, Fuck!" He rubbed his shoulder. 

Snickering despite himself at the umpteenth joke today about him being an elf. Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes, took his last drag, put it out, and went inside to find Ian. Because yeah, they didn't like to be apart for long. Sue him, they were husbands. Somehow it was all working out for the better, in ways he couldn't possibly have predicted. He hung up the jacket with the gloves in the pocket, but he kept on the scarf. There were faint, but he'd rather hide a few bruises than answer snoopy questions from Gallaghers. 

He found Ian in the living room with his family. It took him a moment to recognize what emotion he felt as he glanced over at him; he had his feet up on the coffee table, admiring his sleek new black shoes. It was pride; he was proud of what he had done for Christmas and for what the future held. He felt a sense of hope that maybe he could make something of himself. He made an effort not to give in to his knee-jerk reaction and assume it wouldn't happen for him. That he didn't get to be happy.

Catching Ian's eyes motioned upstairs, and Ian nodded back. They'd meet up in their room, and Mickey would tell him the news, and he already knew that Ian would be proud of him too without a shadow of a doubt. They'd probably bang it out with Ian in his new shoes, Mickey in his new scarf, and then return to the family gathering. They were such domestic bitches these days, and Mickey couldn't imagine anything better. 

**Author's Note:**

> Companion Artwork by [Luluxa](https://luluxa.tumblr.com//) of [Elf Mickey and Ian Celebrating The Holidays](https://64.media.tumblr.com/9f10541428f7d875358725a6d48fcefc/fb17f1c9a1b505fc-2d/s1280x1920/4915b8f0ea0ba1730fc0ea8777d1bb8f1631f5eb.jpg)
> 
> I love hearing from you, leave a comment if you are so inclined, I read all of them and do my best to respond!
> 
> I am Tami when it comes to [Nuts on Clark](https://www.nutsonclark.com/%20rel=). It's soooooo good. You should treat yourself and order some. You seriously can only get it at the airports in Chicago. Years ago I had two trips in a month to Chicago and the second time I went with an empty suitcase just to bring a bunch of it back to share with friends and family. Get the mixed, you wont be sorry. 
> 
> The plug in this story is the [Tom of Finland Anal Plug With Pull Ring](https://www.amazon.com/Tom-Finland-Weighted-Aluminum-Plug/dp/B072J3LFL8). I haven't used this one specifically but I know they make quality products. 
> 
> [Air Jordan 11 Retros](https://www.flightclub.com/air-jordan-11-retro-clear-black-ct8012-011?utm_source=google_int&utm_medium=google_shopping_int&utm_campaign=1072630453_50626141377&utm_content=253990353042_&utm_term=194498328941&gclid=CjwKCAiAz4b_BRBbEiwA5XlVVszq6stGe9TBVWBaegZt2yhOkSRKTrdrbypJelh5iIeiqh6SnLkNjRoCui4QAvD_BwE) are shoes worthy of Ian. Ironically they seem to be sold out. 
> 
> Finally, breath play is fun, but be careful and be sure to educate yourself first, a reasonably comprehensive refrence is the [Complete Manual On Breath Play](http://kinks.ca/wiki/images/8/8e/Breath%20Play_-_rev3.pdf). I reference it as neck choking in this fic, but ideally, it should be a hand over mouth/nose, which is much safer (smothering). Just wanted to say that after including it here and that scene from episode 3 this week. O.M.G - That scene will live in my head for forever, swoon!


End file.
